


Sweet Dreams

by NikaWithSpice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 11:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21178637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaWithSpice/pseuds/NikaWithSpice
Summary: Draco could never have imagined this, could never have dreamed that this would be happening.Well, actually, that’s a lie. He has dreamed it, he has imagined it. He has longed for this very thing for years, for a lifetime. Shattered fragments of a life that he can only see at night, alone in his cold and empty bed in a far colder and emptier manor. Sometimes he even dreams during the day, when the longing grows too strong, when he cannot resist staring at the man of his dreams while wishing that life had been different, if only so that they could be together.





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Killwaii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killwaii/gifts).

> For my darling Lindz, hope you enjoy!!

Draco could never have imagined this, could never have dreamed that this would be happening.

Well, actually, that’s a lie. He _has_ dreamed it, he _has_ imagined it. He has longed for this very thing for years, for a lifetime. Shattered fragments of a life that he can only see at night, alone in his cold and empty bed in a far colder and emptier manor. Sometimes he even dreams during the day, when the longing grows too strong, when he cannot resist staring at the man of his dreams while wishing that life had been different, if only so that they could be together.

But this? A dream turned reality, right beneath his very fingertips? Warm skin shifting under his searching fingers, yielding under his desperate grasp to bloom with a garden of bruises all wearing the shape of his fingertips, the shadow of his hands? Coaxing forth a medley of groans that Draco never let himself hope to hear?

Draco might still be dreaming, he’s not sure. He’s never heard of a curse that could twist reality and dreams so perfectly but there’s always a first for everything. And anyway, it’s not going to stop him from returning Potter’s kiss so desperately, so passionately, not when he’s longed for this for so many years. Potter’s hands are clamped viciously tight on his hips, dragging him in close enough to feel the erection straining against his flies. His moan is smothered against Draco’s lips, vibrating over his tongue.

“Malfoy, shit,” he grunts as Draco slams him into the wall- despite how Potter towers over him- as his fingers bury into the dark strands of his hair. “I think my chest is on fire, Malfoy-”

His is burning too, burning like fiendfyre is searing over his skin, charring it from his breastbone but it doesn’t distract Draco from devouring Potter’s mouth, from plunging his tongue inside and dragging out more of those gruff moans from the other wizard. Potter’s hands slide down, gripping him by the thighs, and he spins them around even as he lifts Draco, pinning him to the wall as Draco’s legs tighten around his waist, ankles locked behind his back. It expels the air from his lungs, leaves him gasping and heaving for air with his head tilted back and resting on the wall. Potter takes advantage of his rasping moans to bite along the pale column of his throat, no doubt leaving bruises behind on his delicate skin.

“Malfoy,” he moans again, breath hot on his throat.

“Draco,” he corrects, “Fuckin’, please call me Draco-”

“Then call me Harry.”

Draco nods frantically, hands scrabbling over the broad expanse of Pott- no, over Harry’s shoulders. “Harry, Harry, Harry-” he chants, choking on the words as Harry’s fingers dig into his skin, hoisting him higher so that they’re pressed together groin to groin, erection to erection. Harry’s teeth sink into the meat of his shoulder, the sliver of skin revealed by the torn fabric of his shirt- when had Harry ripped it? He doesn’t know but he’s fucking glad for it- already marred by impressions of Harry’s impatient mouth. He rocks his hips as best he can with no control over his body, Harry has full control with Draco pliant in his arms.

“Draco-” Harry’s voice cracks on a moan as he grinds against Draco, pressing him hard against the stone wall behind him. “Draco, you’re so- your skin is so hot, bloody hell, Draco!”

He’s left cold as Harry steps back, releasing his weight to slump against the wall. Harry’s fingers are buried in his robes, over his chest as if to rip the fabric from his body while Draco gasps and shivers. He’s so cold now that he doesn’t have Harry’s overwhelming heat to warm him and yet… his chest is still on fire. He tears at his shirt, the remaining buttons tearing free and clattering to the stone floor as Draco bares his chest to the chill air.

There’s a mark seared into the skin over his heart.

Harry is suddenly in his space again and Draco has to fight the urge to throw himself into his arms. Curse his body, curse this… this bond! Draco does not grovel, he doesn’t rely on others, he doesn’t_ throw himself at people_! Yet he wants to. He wants to curl into Harry’s arms and let him deal with whatever the bloody hell this is.

He knows what this is, of course.

Harry’s fingers are warm- too warm- and hesitant as they trace over the mark, dragging a whimper from Draco’s lips as he touches the sensitive flesh. His hips jerk with every feather soft brush of Harry’s fingers on his chest, his body instinctively trying to move closer to that of his- of his _soulmate_’s. Now that the mark has appeared, they’ll have a limited time to either accept or reject it, or the call to complete it will drive them mad with lust.

Draco _wants_. Draco _burns_.

Harry Potter, the boy he’s silently admired and crushed on for years, the Boy Who Lived, is his soulmate? Oh, how Draco fucking wants.

But Harry, Harry’s emerald eyes- Slytherin green, how very perfect- are filled with confusion.

“Draco, what- what is this?”

Draco doesn’t answer verbally, fear immobilizes his vocal cords, renders him mute in the very likely face of Harry’s rejection. Instead, his shaking hands reach out, carefully shifting Harry’s robe and tugging at the collar of the shirt beneath it, showing him the identical mark on his own chest, the emerald colour vivid against the backdrop of his darker skin. He mirrors Harry’s gentle touch, brushing over the snake that twists around the jagged lightning bolt.

“It’s… it’s a soul mark.”

“Like, a soulmate? Like, you’re _my **soulmate**_?”

Draco flinches at the incredulous tone of Harry’s shout, at the shock that widens his eyes beneath his crooked glasses. He can’t bring himself to look up at Harry, the proud jut of his chin tempered by the age-old doubts battering at his head. He keeps his eyes shut, head tilted down as his shoulders slump, even as they shake with the violent hammering of his heart against his ribcage. He’s too busy preparing himself for the agonizing severance of Harry’s rejection to notice that Harry’s crowding into his space again.

“Thank fuck, I thought this was a curse, the way it hit us out of nowhere,” the words have Draco blinking stupidly up at Harry, his mouth dropping wide in a stunned gasp. “Your room or mine?”

“You- you actually want-”

“You? Draco, for someone so brilliant you sure are blind,” Harry presses a kiss to the corner of his still-open mouth.

Draco chases his lips when Harry pulls away but Harry stops him with a smile, hand firm against the soul mark on his chest. “We should take this somewhere private,” he says soothingly, combating the doubt that immediately assaults Draco. His hand drops to hold Draco’s, their fingers slotting together perfectly.

“Okay,” Draco says breathlessly.

He’s still not entirely convinced this isn’t a fever dream but sealing a soul bond with the person he’s loved from afar for years? Nothing will stop him. Not even Harry effortlessly scooping him up into his arms and strolling through the- blessedly- empty halls of Hogwarts.

The Eighth Year dormitories are not so empty, bustling with the scattering of students who returned after the war. Draco buries his face in Harry’s chest to avoid the shocked stares and the cacophony of questions that hail after them as Harry strides through them all. He feels the vibration of Harry’s chest beneath his face, knows that Harry is throwing quick answers at their friends but he’s too mortified to look up, especially when he hears the chorus of cheers that follow them until Harry slams his dorm door shut behind them.

Draco bounces when Harry tosses him onto the mattress, soothed only by Harry immediately following him down to press their lips together. Draco shudders as Harry licks into his mouth, his thin fingers finding anchor in Harry’s unruly hair. Harry is a comforting weight over him, covering him even as he shoves at Draco’s thighs with a knee, urging him to widen the gap between his legs. Draco welcomes him, letting his knees fall wide so that Harry can settle firmly in the cradle of his hips, the bulge of his arousal pressing hot and heavy against his own through the rough fabric of their jeans.

“Draco, fuck,” Harry pants into his mouth, hands pressed flat to the bed on either side of Draco’s head. “Can we- fuck, can we-”

“If you don’t get undressed in the next five minutes, you can go wank in the toilets for all I care,” Draco growls, hands shoving at Harry’s robes. The fire of their bond burns through his veins and there’s only one thing that will quell the ferocity of it.

Harry huffs a laugh then whispers something, a wandless spell that has them both bare in seconds and Draco would complain about the cold but Harry’s body keeps him warm, threatening to burn him where they’re touching.

“Did you just Vanish our clothes?” Draco hits his shoulder but then Harry’s hand tugs at his cock, jerking all the words from his brain in a moan. “Oh, Harry-”

“I like that ever so much better than Potter,” Harry taunts, hand moving slowly along his prick, just enough friction to make Draco want to cry from frustration. “Say it again, for me.”

Draco bites his lip as his hips buck into Harry’s hand, savoring the slow glide of his hand, movements encouraged by the growing pre that’s slicking his way. Harry’s prick bumps against his thigh, rutting against his soft skin. “Harry, Harry, please-”

“But I want to take my time with you.”

Draco pauses to stare up at him. His brows are furrowed, eyes burning with his passionate determination as he drinks in the vision of Draco panting and squirming beneath him. He can’t fight the affectionate smile that quirks his lips, tiny though it is, and Harry’s eyes widen with wonder at the sight. “You stupid git, we have all the time in the world, don’t we?” Harry gives a slow nod as if it never occurred to him that they have literally their entire lives to explore each other. “Then fuck me before I do it myself!”

Draco doesn’t even see Harry’s lips move but suddenly there’s a jar in his hands and then things blur together in a haze of pleasure. Harry stretches him open, one hand pressed to Draco’s milky thigh as his fingers move inside of him. Draco’s hands twist in the blankets beneath him, back arching as Harry grazes his prostate, voice cracking on a moan. His cock smears precum over his abdomen, bobbing as he rocks his hips against Harry’s hand, writhing with every twist of Harry’s wrist. Draco is reduced to a babbling mess of a man under Harry’s touch, legs quaking around Harry as he kneels between them.

“That’s it, love. You’re opening up so beautifully for me, Draco,” Harry’s voice is low, rough-hewn, so unexpectedly confident despite the slight breathy tinge to his words. Draco could blame the sudden burning in his eyes on the heat ravaging his body from the bond’s drive to be sealed but there’s something about seeing Harry like this; hovering above him with that unruly hair haloing his face, with his eyes like glimmering emeralds as he stares down at Draco.

“Harry-”

“I know, I know,” he soothes, thumb stroking his thigh even as his fingers stroke Draco’s inner walls. “Soon, just a little longer. Be a good boy for me. You can be good for me, can’t you, sweetheart?”

Draco nods wildly, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that tears slip past his lashes to drip down his flushed cheeks. He can’t manage a verbal reply, nothing more than the frenetic shaking of his head that matches the pace of his jerking hips, but he’ll do anything to hear more of those honeyed words dripping from Harry’s lips. He rubs at his chest, heart twinging underneath the soul mark, and the movement draws the glimmer of Harry’s eyes, has him curving over Draco to mouth at the inflamed skin.

He tosses his head back, choking on a wail as he grabs Harry by a fistful of dark hair, holding him close to his chest as Harry dismantles him, takes him apart just with a careful twitch of his wrist, a powerful curl of his fingers. He tries to wrap his legs around Harry’s waist but Harry halts him with a rough, “Easy, love. Patience.”

“Harry, please,” Draco pants, dragging his eyes open. He can barely see Harry through the blur of desire-fueled tears. “I’m fucking ready, I’m so ready, please-”

He feels the shiver race through Harry’s body at his words, the excitement, the arousal that’s barely been held at bay while he stretched Draco wide for him. Harry captures his mouth in a rough kiss, distracting him from the painfully empty sensation that comes with careful removal of Harry’s fingers. Draco’s not left wanting for long; he feels the almost hesitant nudge of Harry’s prick against the rim of his hole, slowly pushing until the head slips inside. Harry feels much bigger than he looks, each roll of his hips driving him deeper within Draco, punching the air from his lungs. Draco wraps his legs around Harry, digging his heels into his back as he tangles his arms around Harry’s neck.

There’s no breath left for kisses; Draco settles for the warm scrape of Harry’s lips over his neck as he impales Draco, deep and shuddery breaths that tickle at his skin. He fills the air between them with gasping moans, panting pleas for “More, Harry! Harder, faster, Harry! Please!” and Harry… Harry fucking delivers.

Draco has one second to inhale after Harry seats himself fully inside Draco and then he pulls out, only to slam back in hard enough to scoot Draco up the bed. Draco screams as Harry sets a brutal pace, slow but hard and deep. Each thrust has Draco digging his nails deeper into the skin of Harry’s shoulders as he urges him to quicken his pace. Draco sobs out as Harry slows down, a maddening pace of push and pull that has Draco in tears, moaning breathlessly and torn between burying his face in Harry’s neck and trying to rock into his thrusts or letting his body fall to the body, completely at Harry’s mercy.

He does neither; Draco groans and then flips them over so that he’s straddling Harry, whimpering as somehow, he takes Harry even deeper. For a long moment, he can’t move. Has to breathe and adjust to the sheer girth of him shifting within Draco. Harry’s hands slide languidly up the slope of his thighs, almost hiding the tremor in his fingers as he caresses Draco’s skin reverently before skimming up the length of Draco’s aching length, which finally prompts Draco to move.

“Oh, shit, Draco,” Harry moans as Draco rises up, planting his palms on Harry’s chest- grazing the soul mark as he does so- to balance himself before he sinks back down with a sharp exhale. He gives a little wiggle and then proceeds to ride Harry for all he’s worth, quick bounces that have them both grunting and gasping.

“Oh, Merlin- Harry!” Draco leans back, resting one hand on Harry’s thigh just as Harry brings his knees up to brace him, to give himself leverage to thrust up into Draco. Sweat beads down his face, sticking the pale strands of his hair to his flushed skin and dripping down over his lips. “Harry!”

When Harry wraps his hand around Draco’s prick, it’s over. Draco comes with a shout; hips rolling in jerking, aborted thrusts as he spills over Harry’s fingers, over his belly. He clenches down on Harry’s cock, dragging Harry under the crest of pleasure along with him, silken walls pulsating as they milk him for every last drop of seed before he collapses over Harry, slumping onto his chest despite the mess squishing between them.

Together, they heave for air, panting as Harry’s hands smooth up Draco’s spine, a bastion of warmth against the chill air that neither had noticed before. Harry whispers something, Draco feels his hand move and then a blanket drapes over his back. Draco sighs sleepily, knowing they need to talk but ready to sink into sleep, held in Harry’s arms.

“Sleep, my love,” Harry murmurs into his ear, pressing a kiss to the skin just beneath it. Draco smiles dreamily into the sweat-slick heat of Harry’s neck, shifting only when Harry urges him onto his side and only then to curl back into him, head heavy on Harry’s chest, right over their soul mark. Now that it’s sealed, it’s just a splash of colour on their skin; perfectly healed and permanent, binding them together as long as they both live. “We have all the time in the world now.”


End file.
